person Jessica Purdy, one poem

Jessica Purdy teaches Poetry Workshops at Southern New Hampshire University. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Emerson College. In 2014 she was nominated by Flycatcher for Best New Poets and Best of the Net. She was a featured reader at the Abroad Writers’ Conference in Dublin, Ireland, 2015. Recently her poems have appeared in SurVision Magazine, Nixes Mate Review, The Wild Word, Local Nomad, Bluestem Magazine, and The Telephone Game. Her chapbook, “Learning the Names” was published in 2015 by Finishing Line Press. Her current book, “STARLAND” came out in 2017 with Nixes Mate Books.

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After Reading Plath

Late afternoon, you’re gone
and I’m exhausted.
I walk out because I feel
like it, the outskirts of
Hurricane Jose color the sky
lavender and watercolor gray.

Things that touch you and I
leave. Things you notice
and love their memory.
How would you remember me?
The proud, disappointed self.

Last night our daughter
had been crying, afraid
of hurricanes. I dreamt
of a woman with wild hair
who stared me into a closet.
I woke up and you were gone.
The woman was mad, clearly.
Nothing disturbs me quite like madness.

Hurricane air has been touching us,
stirring up waves and frizzing
hair, making floors sticky and clothes
soggy. The sky at dusk was senseless
out of its mind, the lavender
tint of a white-haired lady’s blue rinse.

Late afternoon, you’re gone
and I’m imagining what I’d
be like alone and painted
across the sky. Would I stay mad,
heavy with humidity, tinged with color;
finally strong enough to head out
to sea and disappear?